Satisfied
by sweet as an elf
Summary: It is so strange how people who have nothing find everything in the least likely places. A hardened criminal finds unaskedfor shelter in the home of a woman who never dreamed that she would one day befriend such a man as he.
1. Rescue Me

_Note_: This chapter does not contain any M-rated content, but later chapters do. The T-rating is for some rough themes.

* * *

After she took out a wad of cash from her pocket, Francesca began to straighten and arrange the bills neatly in her hand. The alley was dark and cold as she walked, heading to her apartment. She was all too aware of the things that could be lurking in the dark corners; dangerous men with criminal minds, mad stray dogs, or… She didn't want to think about the things no one spoke about; the creatures they all knew existed but feared so mortally they didn't dare mention their existence. 

Mysterious monsters aside, the chances of getting mugged were high. Nearly every day robberies were reported; the problem was that no one got caught. Few people hung around long enough to be traced. Galia was a trade planet, it was a place where merchants from across the system came to buy and sell their goods. It was an especially preferred planet for illegal traders; they could come and go at their leisure since there was virtually no security around the ports.

She folded the bills and put them back in her pocket, feeling better knowing that she wouldn't have to worry about rent and food for at least a month. It was the first real cash she had earned in a long time.

She turned a corner and what she saw made her wish she had walked some other way.

Five men were circling a sixth, and they all seemed to have some sort of weapon in their hands. One of the five attackers was laughing at the man in the middle of the circle. The laugh sounded malicious and evil to Francesca. She almost shivered, as thought it had been directed at her.

She noticed that the sixth man was quiet even as the other men talked and laughed, trying to anger him.

Suddenly there was movement and she covered her hands with her eyes, sure that they would butcher him.

When all the noise ceased, she finally had the courage to look up. Only one man was left standing. Francesca noticed that he had a knife in his hand, held poised by his side.

She began to walk gingerly towards him, wondering if he was one of the attackers. She recognized him as the man who had been in the middle of the threatening circle.

He stood rock still even as she approached. She noticed he was breathing a little heavily.

"Hey," she called out, "Are you alright?" Even as she said this she watched him begin to collapse. She ran and caught him before he hit the ground. "Hey…hey" she called out again as she tried to support him. Her small body was very a inadequate auxiliary for his bulk, but she managed to get him against a wall, settling him down as gently as she could.

There was a cut over his jaw line, though it didn't look nearly as serious as the one that ran horizontally on his side. Blood stained his shirt and his face contorted in pain. He gasped and his hand went instinctively to the deep cut. He growled loudly in pain, and for a moment all Francesca could do was stare at him.

She made up her mind quickly and kneeled beside him. She put her hands to his sides, careful not to touch his cut. "Come on, we need to get you out of here. I live nearby."

He nodded and held onto the wall for support. They walked like that until they had to cross the street, and his weight nearly crushed her before she finally reached the front steps of her apartment building. She helped him up the stairs, almost losing her grip on him before they got into her apartment.

She led him over to her couch, and he grunted in pain as more blood stained his shirt.

She searched frantically around for a first-aid box. She had trouble getting around because of the mess, as her feet kept getting tangled in clothes that belonged in the laundry basket. An infinite number of cans barred her away as she looked for the white box with the cross on top.

"Aha!" she explained when she finally found it.

He raised his head slightly, and she noticed he had a pair of goggles on.

"Turn off the lights," he instructed.

"But I won't be able to see--"

"Just do it," he barked.

"Okay, okay. It's your pain, not mine." she turned off the lights.

He took off his goggles and she let out a soft whistle when she saw his shined eyes.

"Impressive."

She fled to her kitchen, remembering that she had a small flashlight thrown around in one of the drawers. She found it and came back with it, feeling triumphant.

She went to his side, and lifted up his shirt, holding the small flashlight with her teeth.

He winced as she pressed a cloth soaked in iodine against the wound. His shirt was in her way so she tugged at it, signaling to him that it needed to go off.

"Seriously?"

She nodded and put her finger to his mouth, indicating that she wanted silence.

She cleaned the wound thoroughly and secured bandages against it. She ignored the nakedness of his chest as she leaned across it to inspect his jaw. He pressed his hand to his eyes as the flashlight got too close to them.

"This one doesn't look good either," she murmured and took another cloth, dabbed it with iodine and went on to clean the cut. "Much better," she smiled after she cleaned away the blood, discovering that the cut was a minor one.

She put a large band aid over it, and began to put things away; she put the flashlight in the first aid kit and put the box down on the floor, beside the couch.

After she was done, Francesca watched the man she had just tended to let himself sink into the couch. He was beginning to relax and it showed, physically. The muscles near his jaw were no longer visible, there was no protruding vein on his neck, and his previously rocky chest now looked as soft as a pillow.

"Beer?" she asked.

He nodded and she went back to the kitchen, producing the alcohol from the fridge. The coolness of the bottle felt refreshing against her skin. She handed him a bottle and he chugged half of it before she could even get a good gulp down.

"So, what happened back there?" she asked.

He was quiet for a while, until he eventually turned his head to look at her. His lazy eyes spoke volumes. He looked tired, almost defeated. "They caught me on a bad day."

"Did you kill them?"

He nodded.

"How did you--"

"Not important, they got me too."

She nodded as if she understood, thought she had plenty more questions.

"Do you have a name?"

"You can call me Riddick."

"What does the rest of the world call you?"

A sleek eyebrow shot gracefully upward. "Riddick."

"I'm Francesca." she hesitated before she spoke again, wondering if she was about to make the proposition of the insane woman. "You should stay here tonight, you're too hurt to go anywhere." She held out her hand. He looked at it, seemed to hesitate, then covered it with one of his own.

Francesca wondered why he didn't ask any questions.

She got up. "I'm going to go set up the guest room for you." When she reached the door, she turned around. "Look, I don't know anything about you, so it might seem weird that I'm doing all of this," she sighed. "You look like you need my help tonight, and since there's no one else who would do this…" she raised her hand and made a sweeping arc with it. "It doesn't really matter. You're not a serial killer, mass murderer or some sort of extremely dangerous criminal or something like that, right?" she said this almost as an afterthought, though it occurred to her that even if he was one of those three things he had no reason to tell it to her.

He shrugged, his eyes staying fixed on a spot on the opposite wall.

She emerged back into the living room after a few minutes. "I did my best."

He got up from the couch, attempting to get away. She put a palm up.

"We need food."

She went to the kitchen and motioned for him to follow her.

She opened her fridge and peered inside. She didn't find much, so they would have to do with what was available. She took out a carton of eggs, some tomatoes and whatever other vegetable she could find.

"Hope you like omelets."

His only response was to turn off the lights. She sighed and brought out a few candles she had stashed for emergencies. "I only keep these for blackouts." she showed him the candles. "Now you owe me big time."

He chuckled, then winced as pain surged from the cut.

"Careful," she said as she cracked a couple of eggs. "It will sting for a while. It was pretty deep. I guess they got you good."

"I guess they did," he said and leaned his head against the wall.

She yawned and stretched as she let the eggs cook. "Man, I'm beat."

"Tough day?"

"You could say that." she was careful here, hoping he didn't start inquiring about what she did for a living. It wasn't exactly advisable to tell a stranger that she was a dancer, and former hooker.

She put the plate full of steaming omelet in front of him, along with another one filled with something resembling a salad.

She didn't care if he liked it or not as she delved deep and ate everything on her plate, until there was nothing left. It was her first meal of the day.

When she finally looked up she saw that he was finished as well.

He didn't comment when she took his plate and placed it in the sink, along with his own.

"You don't talk much, do you?"

"Not my thing," he said and got up from the table and went to the door.

"The guestroom is the door right in front as you go into the hallway. The bathroom is the second left."

He nodded and left her to wash the dishes.

"Ungrateful bastard," she murmured under breath, unaware that he could still hear her.

* * *

The sounds of water running in the bathroom woke Francesca up much earlier than she was used to. She grunted and rolled over, landing on the floor. 

"Morning sunshine," she bellowed when she entered the bathroom and found him under the shower.

All the lights were off, but some sunshine had managed to sneak itself in through a tiny window, which also served as the only kind of ventilation system she could afford. The dimness of the room, however, did not render her incapable of seeing all of him clearly. He didn't seem to mind that a woman he barely knew had her eyes glued on his naked, wet body.

Francesca shrugged when he didn't say anything and she did her business as if he wasn't there. By the time she began to brush her teeth he was already turning down the water.

"Towels are in there," she pointed to a cupboard to her left.

As he walked past her, perhaps a little too close to her, she caught a glimpse of him in the mirror, standing behind her, locking his eyes with hers. She liked the way the two of them looked in the reflection. She lowered her eyes before he could read her thoughts.

He took one of her towels and dried himself off. It took a lot of restraint on her part not to turn her head to look at him.

"Tell me something," he said, "do you always have strange men in your apartment?"

She shrugged, the way she had seen him do when she'd asked him if he was a serial killer. "You could say that."

"Do you always walk in on them like that?"

She shrugged again. "I only have one bathroom. Why, do you mind?"

"Not if you return the favor." She could see the corners of his mouth go up a little bit.

She chuckled and finished brushing her teeth. He didn't move.

"Not that this" she pointed with her finger at him, "is what I would consider a sight, but you owe me anyway. "

He raised his chin and looked at her through lidded eyes, as if what she'd said had been extremely interesting.

"Now shoo." she made sweeping motions with both her hands, showing him the door. "Go."

He crossed his arms over his chest, a motion which made him look more than a little intimidating and he left the bathroom. Frankly, Francesca was surprised. He didn't look like the type of guy who would let anyone tell him what to do.

She showered quicker than usual, not trusting him alone in her apartment.

She found him in the living room perusing through a magazine, not dressed in the clothes he had been in last night.

"Hope you don't mind, I found these in your room."

"Not at all," she said and tried to sound sarcastic. "Glad you helped yourself."

"They belong to your boyfriend?"

"Brother."

"What is he, a wrestling champion? These are a little loose." He demonstrated by tugging at the white shirt which should have been a tight fit.

"No, but I bet you are."

His laughter filled her room, and like everything about him, it was bordering on scary.

"Overweight." she murmured and indicated to a photo by the small table next to the couch. It was a picture of her and a man three times her size and a foot taller, standing in front of a big, neat house.

Riddick turned his head to look at it, his eyes lingering on the picture.

"How's your cut?" She noticed that he'd taken off the band-aid she had put on the small wound on his chin; it looked like it was healing.

He shrugged, still looking at the photograph.

She went over to him and lifted up his shirt. Despite the fact that the big wound looked like it had coagulated quite nicely, a small part of it bad broken.. She muttered a curse under her breath and fetched the first-aid kit. She bandaged it again and saw him frown. "It still needs to stay protected. And you need to take it easy, no elaborate moves."

"Nurse?"

She shook her head. "I like to read."

She closed the tin box and threw it back down on the floor. She got up and went to one of the windows and threw the curtains aside. She heard brief shuffling behind her, and he was by her side pulling the curtains closed. He had moved faster than anyone she knew who was his size.

She tried not to let the sudden panic that swelled up in her stomach show as she looked at him. He turned his eyes to hers, and her first instinct was to back up. Suddenly she was frightened of this man and she couldn't explain to herself why. She hadn't even heard him move, she hadn't heard his steps as he'd crossed the room to get to the window. That wasn't normal.

"So," she said, trying to break the uncomfortable silence. "Where do you live?"

"Not around here," he said and kept his eyes fixed on her as if he was still studying her face.

"Okay," she had a feeling she didn't want to ask too much.

"I'm leaving in a few days, my ship's getting fixed."

She nodded, wondering when she'd signed on to house him for a few days.

He left the living room, and came back with his dirty clothes. He tossed them in the garbage bin in the kitchen and she followed him there.

"Look," he said, taking out a few bills from his pocket. "Get some food in that fridge," he paused and looked around, then he put more bills on the table. "And a cleaning lady." He pocketed the rest of his money and soon enough Francesca heard the front door slam shut.

She let out a sigh of relief, surprised at how glad she felt to know that he left.

* * *


	2. Turn You On

_Note:_ I always listened to something while I wrote this story. That's not to say that songs were my inspiration, since Riddick and Vin were my inspiration, but music generally makes reading more enjoyable if it is suitable for the words. For you, as the reader, I would suggest some Aerosmith ("Outta Your Head", "Taste of India", "Luv Lies") to start, then Elton John (particularly songs from The Captain & The Kid, such as "I Must Have Lost It On The Wind"). LeAnn Rimes ("Break Me Down", "Satisfied"), Celine Dion ("In His Touch", "I Know What Love Is"). Enjoy :)

PS: I send my thanks to all of you who reviewed the first chapter. You have no idea how much I appreciate your comments!

* * *

Her leg swung around the cool aluminum pole, and she let her torso ever so slowly bend backwards. Her hand fingered a baton as she swung herself around the pole in a neat motion, propping herself on the baton as she let go of the pole. She raised her leg up high gymnastics style and then gracefully let it drop back down as the music came to an end. Her audience cheered and hooted and she bent down in a mock bow, taking her time to look around the room, as she always did, trying to figure out if she'd have any private clients tonight. Belly dances were her specialty and they all knew it.

When her eyes recognized the face of the man with the shined eyes, she held his gaze. She was surprised to see him there, and a little bit alarmed. However, she also felt strangely pleased and satisfied to see him sitting there, knowing that he had seen her entire show. She never took her eyes off him as she backed away from the stage, giving him an over the shoulder look when she turned around and sashayed herself away from view. The audience cheered louder and she walked back to the dressing room with a smile on her face.

Ten minutes later, her guard knocked on her door. "You've got a private," he said through the slit door. Her smile widened; she was doing well.

The smile was no longer genuine when she entered one of the rooms reserved for private audiences; she'd half expected to find Riddick sitting on the chair in the middle of the table. She hoped her disappointed didn't show. She felt a little bit of comfort when she saw that the man sitting in the chair was handsome, with his sandy blond hair cut in a Mohawk and his dark eyes fixed seductively on her face.

"One rule," she said as she dimmed the lights. "Only I do the touching."

The guy shrugged. "Fine by me."

Francesca gave him the show he had paid for, and by the time she walked back to her dressing room, small beads of sweat rolled over her temples.

Later, she waved at her guard as she left the club. Pulling her coat more tightly around herself, she fished in her pockets for some cigarettes. Her mind suddenly drifted back to the money Riddick had left on the table. Why had he done that? Did she seem so pathetic to him that he'd felt the need to leave her money, as if she was a charity case? Well, now he would know exactly what she was and how she earned her money and what was more he would see that she didn't need his help.

She heard footsteps behind her, and she spun around, seeing the dark silhouette of a man. He was tall, and obviously well built. At first she thought he was Riddick, and the knots in her stomach unclenched a little bit. Then she heard other footsteps. She turned back around and she saw that there was another, smaller man.

The larger man approached, and she realized that it wasn't Riddick. She began to panic and thought about trying to run.

"Empty your pockets, sweetheart," the leaner man said as he too stepped closer.

Francesca shook her head, thinking of the wad of cash in her pockets. It was her money and she had worked hard for it.

"Give me your money and we won't hurt you," the bigger man said, impossibly close to her.

Francesca shook her head again, feeling as if her legs were made of lead.

Someone grabbed her by her coat, and she closed her eyes, too horrified to look at who it was.

"This one's stubborn," the smaller man said.

The bigger man chuckled, and Francesca realized he was the one holding her. He threw her against the wall and pinned her there.

"Come on," he said to the smaller man, who approached and began to search her pockets.

Francesca tried to struggle, but it was to no use. "Hold steady," someone ordered.

"Aha, here it is." The small man held out her cash, and Francesca tried again to free herself from the other man's grasp. She managed to kick him, and he growled; he pinned her to the wall again, this time using more force.

She closed her eyes again as she saw his hand go up in the air, expecting it to collide with her face. It didn't; suddenly he let go of her.

"Motherfucker," the small man cursed as someone held a hand over his throat, pinning him to the ground.

The bigger man launched himself at the attacker, and Francesca saw him suddenly collapse without having heard the sound of a punch or of a gunshot. After the man collapsed completely, she saw that his throat had been cut.

The smaller man had taken off running as fast as he could as the attacker momentarily let go of him. However, the attacker caught up with him and managed to hurl him against a wall. Francesca saw the glint of a blade, and then the man crumpled on the pavement, writhing and screaming in pain.

Francesca ran up to the attacker, and she saw that he was holding a wad of cash in his other hand. He turned around and she gasped when she saw his bright eyes. She was close to him, but neither said a word.

He handed her the cash, and she took it reluctantly.

"Want to come up?" she eventually said, wondering how long they would stand in the deserted street with a bloody corpse lying at their feet.

He nodded and they walked away. She noticed that he was no longer wearing her brother's clothes. He had on jet black cargo pants and a wife beater; his signature look, it seemed.

She led him into her apartment, which she had cleaned before work. There were no more clothes on the floor, and the food cans had disappeared down the garbage chute. She hadn't touched the cash he had left her on the table, but the fridge was moderately stocked with drinks and food.

She saw him take in the few changes; when he eventually turned to look at her, she couldn't read the expression on his face.

"Beer?"

He nodded, and sat himself down on the couch. She brought the beers, and sipped quietly as she settled on an old lazy-chair. The room was dark except for three candles she'd lit in the middle of the coffee table. She curled her legs under her as her eyes scanned the room; inevitably, they landed on him. For the first time since she'd met him she began to wonder who he was, what he did, why he didn't go to a hotel… She sighed and set down her beer.

"You were at the club today," she said.

He nodded.

Francesca nodded, keeping her eyes fixed on him, taking her time as she studied him. He looked like he was worked well, like a statue, and the sculptor had paid great attention to every single part of him. Francesca as she thought of what she'd told him the previous day, in the bathroom. He was more than just a sight; he was something akin to a marvel.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," she said in a small voice and almost bolted out of the room, as if she was trying to escape her thoughts.

The warm water felt good against her skin as it washed away the traces of sweat and dirt she had accumulated from the dances. She didn't hear the bathroom door open and shut. She only felt a pair of strong hands as they touched her back, and she whirled around to glare at Riddick.

"What are you doing here?" she almost shrieked.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he asked and put his hands on her waist, stepping under the shower. He was completely drenched by the time he pulled her close to him and pressed his nose to her shoulder.

She put her hands on his wet chest and pushed him back. "No," she said with determination.

He stopped his hands from traveling up her back to her neck, and an eyebrow arched up gracefully.

"No," she said again and pushed him further away. His hands left her sides, and she stared at him for a moment.

She hesitated, unable to take her eyes off of him."Now look what you've done, you're all wet," she eventually said. She would've clicked her tongue if she could have made it work properly.

She paused, then tugged at his shirt. "You need to get these off you, and put them in the drier. She began to pull up the shirt, and he helped her get it off the rest of the way. Then she undid his pants, painfully aware of how close her hands were to him. The pants fell to his ankles once she undid them completely. She noticed that he was squinting a little, so she reached to the switch, and dimmed the lights.

He was quiet as she took his hand and squirted some sweet smelling shower gel on it. She then turned around and pulled her hair away from her back. "Wash," she instructed.

He didn't say anything as his hands went to work. Once he was done leathering her back she turned around and handed him more gel. He worked well, slowly massaging her skin, touching her everywhere; her neck, her collarbone, her stomach, her breasts. She bit her lip as he touched her. He raised one of her legs, and she leaned against the cold tiles, gasping at their surprising coolness against her warmed skin. He let his hands travel over the length of her leg, attending to every inch of her skin. He repeated the movements on her other leg, and she almost moaned in anticipation when his hands got impossibly slow to her most sensitive areas.

He was done too soon, and it was her turn to touch him. She smiled a sheepish grin, and set to work. His broad back took some time; her hands seemed too small as they traveled over his physique. The expanse of his shoulders felt glorious under her touch and she almost sighed. She turned him around and again she let her hands take on their own will. She basked in the way he felt as she touched him; hard yet incredibly smooth. She noticed that his bandages were off and the cut was healing nicely.

Once they were both rinsed she got out from under the water and fetched them both towels. He wrapped his around his waist and took her own away from her hands, drying her off himself. She smiled and raised herself up on her tiptoes once he was done. "Thanks," she said and kissed him on the cheek.

She walked away from the bathroom with the towel swung over her shoulders, aware of the fact that it was now pointless to try and cover herself. She shook her head slightly as she rummaged through her closet, opting to put on one of her brother's oversized white shirts. "What the hell are you doing?" she whispered to herself as she put it on and went past the living room and into the kitchen.

She found him there, peering in the fridge, with the towel still wrapped around his middle.

"You can take some of my brother's clothes if you want," she said and reached past him for a beer. Their bodies touched from the briefest second, and she felt her nipples become taut.

"I'm good." he said, and took a beer for himself. "So, wanna explain to me what that was, in the shower?"

She raised an eyebrow. "We took a shower. That's all."

She saw his eyes rest briefly on her breasts, and she knew what he was looking at.

"Tell me something, Riddick, do I turn you on?" she took another swig from her beer, looking as casual as if they were talking about the weather.

"Do you want to check?"

She put her beer down on a counter and walked towards him. She stood close to him as she unwrapped his towel, and found nothing alarming.

"Satisfied?"

She snorted as she wrapped the towel back around him. "As if you could."

His laughter roared from deep within his chest, and he didn't look the least bit offended.

She took her unfinished beer in her hand and walked past him, towards the living room. She looked in dismay at her other unfinished beer and wished she had something close by to toss it in. She turned on the TV, and swung her legs over the arm of the lazy-chair and put her arm behind her head, making herself comfortable.

He followed her into the room and settled himself on the couch.

She closed her eyes as exhaustion and sleep caught up with her. When she opened them again she was in her bed, and Riddick was on top of her, burying himself inside of her. She gasped and held onto his shoulders as he thrust and thrust, bringing her closer to her climax. Something buzzed, and she opened her eyes again. She was back on the lazy-chair, and when she looked over to the couch, Riddick was still there.

"You fell asleep," he said. "Bad dream?"

"Nightmare," she whispered, wondering if she had said anything.

"You said my name," he said.

"Is that good or bad?"

"Well…" his voice trailed off, and her cheeks colored. She got up from the chair.

"Night," she muttered and went into her room, getting into bed and pulling the covers over herself.

She heard the tv switch off, and then footsteps. They halted by her open door, and he knocked softly.

"Can we talk?"

She nodded, knowing he saw her in the dark.

She sat up on her elbows, and padded an empty space on her bed. "Come in."

He did, and when he sat down the bed dipped with his weight.

"I killed those men tonight," he said, and she nodded again.

"I know."

"I'm not…" she put a finger to his lips.

"I don't need to know what you are and what you're not. In my house you're Riddick, just Riddick, got it?"

He looked at her, and she saw that he understood.

Then he bent down slowly, as if he was giving her time to push him away. He pressed his mouth to hers, and she let him in without a moment's hesitation. Sparks went up inside of her and she put her had on the back of his neck and pulled him closer.

"You smell like me," she muttered when they parted for breath.

He kissed her again, and she felt urgency in his kiss which she didn't quite understand. He gently pushed her on the pillows. She ended the kiss and reached for his waist, unwrapping the towel.

He looked into her eyes as if he was asking her permission. She nodded slowly, and he pushed the covers away from her. He moved closer to her, and pushed the oversized shirt up over her belly. She arched her back, giving him an open invitation.

He bent down to kiss her again, and she anchored herself with her arms around his neck, expecting him. He went into her slowly. His pace increased steadily, their breathing becoming more uneven. His name escaped her lips as he buried himself into her all the way once, twice. She screamed his name when he sent a wave of acute pleasure rippling through her body, and he bit her neck as his own climax came soon after.

He rolled off of her and she gasped for air, taking in gulps of it as fast as possible. Soon, sleep overtook her. By the time he took her in his arms, she was fast sleep; only then was he able to fall asleep.


	3. What I Took

She opened her eyes to find rays of sunlight flooding the bedroom. She rubbed her eyes and looked around, as if expecting to find something unfamiliar in an otherwise familiar room. She found nothing. She stretched across the bed and it too was empty.

She searched the apartment and found no trace of Riddick. It was as if he had never been there. The guest room looked untouched. She frowned and went into the kitchen to make some coffee. He suddenly felt like a dream, an apparition, something she had imagined which was fading away from her memory. Only, she could still feel his touch on her skin, as if his hands had been made of hot iron and had branded her skin as they touched it.

Francesca had given him her body without intending to, and she hadn't asked anything in return. That was very unlike her, and a little voice in her head counted out the dangers that would surface if this behavior continued. She would succumb back to her old addiction; the one where she gave her body to strangers just so she could forget about herself, to escape from herself.

Another voice in her head wondered if he'd be back.

That night she walked back from the club, again alone, and she half expected him to come out of a dark corner and sweep her up into his arms. It was strange how she didn't feel any fear as she walked through the street where she had been attacked. She stopped by the spot where she had seen Riddick slice the throat of those two men, and a sudden craving for him coursed through her body. She bit her lip and continued walking.

The atmosphere in the club felt constrained, and the tension was almost palpable. Francesca twirled around the pole once and looked at her audience. It was obvious that they were enjoying the sight of her, but there was something distracting them, as if they were of one mind and preoccupied with the same thought.

It was later when she discovered that it wasn't just them, it was everyone around her who seemed to be troubled. Apparently one of the best prisons in the Hellion system had reported a missing prisoner. Another prison, Crematoria, another triple-max prison from another system had also reported a missing prisoner. Both convicts shared strikingly similar MO's. Many people thought it was the same killer, except it could not have been because the Crematorian convict had been caught while the prisoner from the Hellion system was still imprisoned. The only explanation left was that there were two killers. That was not good.

Francesca didn't really see what the problem was, until her guard explained it to her. The two killers could've teamed up. One killer with a hell of a reputation was alarming, two killers of the same sort working together was altogether catastrophic.

Francesca had shrugged and she had walked home without thinking about it too much.

The next morning, someone knocked on her door. She opened it, and a man she had almost forgotten about stood on her doorstep. He wore a black shirt, black pants and black combat boots. His eyes sparkled as a slow smile spread across his face.

"Hello, sweetheart!"

Francesca crossed her arms in front of her chest and refused to step away from the door so as to let him in. "What do you want, Riddick?"

In order for her to forget about him, she had reasoned with herself that he wasn't worth thinking about. She had labeled him as just another body which had happened to cross her path. She needed to keep that image of him in her mind in order for her to be able to look at him without remembering

"That's no way to greet a lover," he said and stepped close to her.

She knew he was trying to invade her personal space, to bother her, but she ignored him. "You're not my lover."

"Maybe not at the moment, but who knows, that may change."

She didn't miss the twinkle in his eyes and it annoyed her, because she was too aware of his closeness.

"What do you want?" she asked again, this time slower, pronouncing every word.

He shrugged. "I need to stay here for the night."

"Can't you go to a hotel?"

He clicked his tongue and tilted his head. "No, not really."

"Why?"

"Not your business."

"Why?" she asked again, suspicions rising with their ugly head to the surface.

"Don't want anyone any one to know where I'm staying."

She nodded, though she wanted to ask so much more. As it always was with Riddick, she felt it was better not to.

"Alright," she moved away from the door, readying herself for abstinence. She didn't want to let him into her bed again. She closed the door and bolted it with the new locks she had had installed.

"What's this?" he asked, indicating the locks.

"Haven't you heard about the two convicts who escaped from the triple-max prisons? They say they both kill the same way, and everyone's thinking that they teamed up. I just wanna be safe." she gave the locks a small, affectionate pat. "You never know."

"Those aren't really gonna help when you're walking the streets in the middle of the night." he said and slowly stepped closer to her. His form loomed over hers, but it was inviting rather than hostile. Steeling herself she said, "Not tonight, Riddick," and backed up.

He ignored her retreat and stepped forward, close enough to be able to whisper in her ear. "You said something like that last time, sweetheart, and remember where it got you?" His voice seemed like a soothing purr, and for a brief moment Francesca closed her eyes.

He walked away without waiting for an answer and went into the guest room; her every feeling seemed to follow in his footsteps. As the room was devoid of him, Francesca was devoid of joy. She heard the door close, and she saw nothing of him for the rest of the night.

The next morning he walked by the bathroom door without coming in, even though he heard the shower running.

"You're not gonna talk to me now?" she said when she stepped in the kitchen and was greeted by silence. She set about to make breakfast. He raised an eyebrow when he peered in her fridge and saw that it wasn't as vacant as it had been when he had last seen it.

"Your job paying you well?"

"Of course," she said and grinned.

She felt him rather than heard him as he walked towards her, and he soon had her pinned against a counter with the kitchen knife still in her hand. He turned her around, looked at the knife, then at her, and before she could stop him his mouth was pressed against hers. A thought formulated in her mind, and she held on tighter to the knife. She invited him into her mouth and he took without restraint. Slowly she twirled the knife around her fingers until she positioned it properly. Ever so slowly she brought it towards his throat. She got the blade close enough so that he wouldn't have time to yank it away from her hand before she pressed it against his throat.

Slowly she ended the kiss as the blade touched his skin, and she could see his bemused expression when she didn't move it away.

"Listen, Riddick, I didn't know who you were when I first let you into my life, and I still don't know who you are now. But I'm asking you nicely to leave me alone. Forget that I live here, forget about me. Don't ever come near me again, do you understand?"

"Tell me something, do you always put knives to people's throats when you're being nice?"

She pressed the knife further, but it wasn't sharp enough to cut so easily. "Do you understand?"

He raised his hands over his head, palms facing up. "And what if I don't?"

She was ready to slide the blade horizontally when, with one simple, swift movement, he reversed their position. He had the knife in his hand, and he shoved her against a wall, all gentleness gone from his movements. His eyes were ruthless when she looked into them, as if he was truly ready to kill her, but the blade wasn't pressed threateningly against her throat.

"Don't make me hurt you, Francesca."

"Too late for that," she said through clenched teeth, finding it strange that she wasn't afraid of him even though she had every reason to be.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I let you into my home because you were hurt and because you seemed helpless. I did not let you into my bed just because you asked and I felt charitable. I let you in because I liked you and I was curious. I thought that if I satisfied my curiosity then I would stop thinking about you. I tried, Riddick, but you took too much from me." she paused. His eyebrows came together as his eyes stayed fixed on her face.

"What did I take from you?" he asked, his voice a whisper.

"A little bit of my heart, I think," she said, her voice too turned into a whisper.

She heard the clink of the knife as it landed by the table next to her, and he turned to leave the room.

Francesca felt weak, as if her confession had drained all the strength from her body. She resisted the urge to collapse on the floor as he closed the kitchen door silently behind him.

Her breath caught in her throat when she heard nothing but silence coming from the other room. The front door opened and closed, and only after she was sure that he'd left again did she allow herself to slide down onto the floor. She hugged her knees and put her chin on them, staring at the kitchen counter.


	4. Angles and Valleys

Besides the club, there was one other place Francesca liked to frequent; a small pub not far away from her house. Everyone knew her there, and it was the only place in the neighborhood where she could sit at a bar without being picked on by men who needed desperately to be fucked. She was usually the only woman sitting so near the booze.

Ever since Riddick, the pub had become her hangout place. Solitude no longer suited her like it used to. Thoughts, memories, and regrets were things she didn't want to have to think about, and the bar provided her with the opportunity to sit and observe rather than reflect. Sometimes, the alcohol helped too. Also, having other men around allowed her to see that there were other fish in the sea.

"Hey Fran," Jack, the barman, greeted her as she settled herself near the door and hung her soaked raincoat on the back of the stool. Despite the noise inside, the rain could still be heard as it pounded on the sidewalk. Francesca looked at the wet pavement, for a brief moment wishing she could feel the raindrops land on her skin; she imagined them clearing away her thoughts, making room for a fresh mind.

"Just a coke tonight, if you don't mind," she called back to Jack as she tore her eyes away from the window.

He nodded at her, and she noticed his eyes shift to his side. Francesca followed his gaze and she realized that she wasn't the only woman at the bar tonight.

An attractive brunette took a swig from a beer, and her eyes traveled around as if she was looking for something. To Francesca it looked like she was looking for trouble. There was something about her, as if she was always on her guard, ready to jump to a fight when provoked. The woman's eyes fell unexpectedly on Francesca, and even in the dim light she could see that their cool, green color accentuated her keen features.

"Finally someone I can talk to," she said to Francesca.

"I haven't seen you around here before."

She nodded. "I'm just visiting some friends."

"Ah," Francesca took a sip of her coke. "I'm afraid this place isn't suited for friendly visits. Not much to enjoy. People aren't as nice as they used to be…"

"I can see that," the woman said as her eyes drifted over to a group of half a dozen men and women cackling loudly over a pool table. The men grabbed their women's asses while the women looked at each other and nearly sneered; it looked like they were playing the most perverse version of the courtship game. "Not the best of places."

"Where are your friends?" Francesca asked.

The woman shrugged. "I'm sort of looking for them. I don't know exactly where they live around here… But I was told this was a good place to start."

Francesca nodded. "Maybe I can help you out, who are you looking for?"

A strange look passed over the woman's face, one that made Francesca want to leave the bar and get as far away from this stranger as possible. "Oh, wow, I can't believe I forgot to introduce myself." The woman said, changing the subject.

It wasn't hard for Francesca to spot the change. "I'm Francesca," Francesca began, and held out her hand.

"Keyra."

"So who did you say you were looking for?"

Keyra leaned in, close enough so she could speak to Francesca without anyone else peering in on their conversation. "Actually I'm just looking for one person. A man named Riddick. I heard he was here."

Francesca resisted the urge to back out of the stool, trying to keep her face as impassive as she could. She shook her head. "Haven't heard of him. You may want to ask Jack." Francesca pointed at the barman, though she saw Keyra's face momentarily freeze. "Hey Jack," she called, "Come here."

Keyra shook her head. "It's alright." she put her hand up. "I'll find him some other way."

Francesca wondered what other way, but she didn't have time to ask. Keyra finished her beer and left the pub.

"I'm gonna need a double vodka and a martini, Jack. It looks like it's going to be a long night.

When she woke up the next morning, her stomach felt like it was on it's own private rollercoaster.

She was barely out of the bathroom when she heard knocks on her door. She realized there was something wrong with her even before she opened the door. Riddick stood on the other side of her doorstep. She realized her period was two months late. She wondered if her face was as ghostly white as it felt.

"Did someone come looking for me?" he asked. Francesca noticed he didn't try to come in.

"Not here, but at a pub, a couple of blocks that way." she motioned to a vague direction with her hand, then brought the same hand to her temple, feeling the room begin to spin. She had to lean against the doorframe so she wouldn't fall.

"You look like shit," he said and brought his eyebrows together. Francesca was too busy holding her stomach to notice.

"Thanks, how are you," she said and nearly groaned as a new wave of nausea hit her. She barely made it back to the bathroom.

Someone turned on the faucet as she leaned over the toilet bowl. She felt her hair being pulled back from her face and a cool washcloth pressed to her forehead.

"You smell different," he said, almost half to himself.

"It might be the bile," Francesca suggested and took the cloth from his hand to cool off her entire face. She sank down against the cold tiles.

Riddick took his goggles off and examined her closely. He leaned in to smell her neck, her collarbone, the valley between her breasts.

"Hey," she said as he ignored every personal space rule. "Watch those."

He lifted up her shirt, and nearly pressed his nose to her belly. "You definitely smell different."

"Well…" she wanted to make a joke out of it, but found that she couldn't. The idea was much too horrifying.

He lifted her up from off the floor and carried her to her bedroom, where he set her down on the bed. He pressed his hand to her forehead. She started to protest as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, but didn't kiss her.

"Who was the guy looking for me, what did he look like?"

"Girl, not guy."

"What?"

"Girl, woman, a girl was looking for you. Her name was Keyra."

He cursed under his breath.

"You know her?"

He nodded.

Francesca's mouth formed an "oh" but she couldn't bring herself to say anything else.

"She was ten when I managed to take her and a holy man off a godforsaken planet." A shadow passed over his features, as if he was remembering something painful.

Francesca covered his hand with hers almost unconsciously. He looked at it for some time before he spoke again. "A couple of weeks ago I helped her get out of a max prison . We split and I told her not look for me anymore."

Francesca's other hand went to her stomach, resting over her belly, almost as if she was protecting the new life that grew there. His eyes turned to it, then he looked up at her. Suspicion and doubt crept over his features and she knew what he wanted to ask.

"It's only been you," she answered his unasked question.

She didn't hear him sigh, but she imagined that he did. Relief settled over his features as he lay next to her. "You smell beautiful," he whispered. She let him gather her in his arms and they stayed there like that until sweet sleep overtook them both.

"You need to get out of here," he said as she handed him a cup of coffee. "This place isn't safe for you, it never was."

They had woken up late in the afternoon, still in each other's arms. Francesca could still smell him on her; he smelled like forest, green leaves and warm earth. She hadn't changed from her pajamas just so she could have that extra assurance that he was back, as if him sitting opposite from her at the kitchen table wasn't enough.

She shrugged. "It's the only place where I can make a living. Besides, I have no money to go anywhere." Sitting down across from him she gave him a small, half hearted smile. "I don't mind living here."

He looked thoughtful for a moment, with his eyes downcast and his hands unmoving, wrapped around the mug, covering it completely and then some. When he didn't say anything, Francesca went on.

"What are you going to do about Keyra?"

"I'm going to let her find me. If she wants to be nice, she can stay. If she'll be a bitch, I'll tell her off."

Francesca stared down at her own coffee as a familiar feeling settled in her stomach. It was a small tendril of fear that he would leave again, just like those other times. "Where are you gonna go?"

"Nowhere, for now."

She looked up, surprised. She hesitated before she spoke again. "Why did you leave that first time, and the time after that?" Francesca tried to sound casual but her voice pitched slightly; suddenly she wished she hadn't said anything.

He looked at her, his eyes boring into her as he tried to read her expression. He was very good at that, at reading people. "I never had any plan to stay."

She didn't want it to, but it stung. She knew better than to expect him to have felt any kind of attachment to her, but maybe, just maybe, she had meant enough for him. Now she knew she hadn't. That stung her even more. Her eyes dropped as she found herself incapable of holding his gaze. Everything he wasn't supposed to see was mirrored in her eyes.

"What are you gonna do about the baby?" he asked.

_The _baby. He'd called their child _the baby_.

"You mean _your _baby," she said through clenched teeth, letting the bitterness she felt seep into her voice. "I'm going to give birth to this child and I'm going to raise it." A small fear traveled through her throughts, so horrible to her that she could only allow it to become the tiniest of fragments as it swam in her consciousness. Was he trying to suggest that she should _not _have their child?

He remained quiet, and his silence made her angry.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you to stay. I don't need you, and this child doesn't need you." Francesca knew she was wrong. They did need him. She had never been particularly fond of thinking of herself as a mother, or children. If it would have been any other man's child she was sure she wouldn't have kept it. But the fact that the baby growing inside of her was Riddick's made all the difference in the world.

She wanted to put her arms around him and bury herself against his chest, show him that he didn't have to spend the rest of his life alone. She wanted to show him that a little comfort, a little attachment never hurt anyone. What she chose to do instead was to walk out of the kitchen and go straight to her bedroom, closing the door behind her. She buried her head in the pillow and let the tears flow.

As soon as the tears subsided and her sadness was put at bay she lay on the bed, half asleep when someone knocked softly on her door. She didn't answer so he came in anyway. He sat on the side of the bed for a while before he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. They were as warm and soft as ever. For a brief moment she imagined him continuing his kisses over the bridge of her nose and landing finally on her mouth. She craved his touch upon her skin as badly as the plants crave the rain.

Riddick lifted up her shirt gently and pressed his face to her very slightly rounded belly. He gave it one solitary kiss then let his cheek rest upon it, as if he was listening intently for something. "I think it's a girl," he whispered, "or maybe a boy."

Despite herself Francesca let a lazy smile spread across her lips, allowing her hands to travel up to his head and slowly caress the back of his neck.

"Kiss me, Riddick," she whispered.

He looked up momentarily before he brought his mouth onto hers. She kissed him hungrily at first, then let herself be gentle as his hands began to move over her body. He undressed her slowly, placing a kiss here and one there as he reacquainted himself with her body. As soon as he was undressed she relished in the fact that he was as gloriously splendid as ever, with his angles and valleys. That night he was gentle, and she dug her fingers into his back as they rocked back and forth, back and forth, the simple act fulfilling Francesca's long endured cravings.


	5. Forest and Warm Dirt

She was sat on top of a hill, with grass of the greenest green. All around she heard bird calls, all in different pitches and voices. The noise sounded like a song, or rather like a symphony performed by an expert orchestra. Her eyes traveled down the hill, where she could see the blue of a lake, and a forest; she could smell the freshness. The wind was pleasant as it ruffled her dress, and she began to walk downhill, excitement bubbling inside of her. The birdsongs became louder. She blinked, and the sunlight changed. It was no longer coming from a clear sky, but from a window opposite her. She could no longer feel the grass between her toes because she was lying on a soft mattress, with sheets covering her body. She closed her eyes again, trying to slip back into the pleasant dream. Instead of a blue lake and fields of grass and forest, she saw the crimson red of the inside of her eyelids. A small groan escaped her lips and she rolled over.

The fresh smell of green came back to her. Smiling languidly she sighed, imagining beautiful plains of colorful flowers, flying ladybugs… Things she had never seen in her life.

He stirred beside her and his arm instinctively went around her waist, pulling her closer, tucking her securely next to him. Francesca opened her eyes again, and the dismay she had felt from the loss of her dream was replaced by a comforting joy when she saw the face of a handsome man inches away from hers. She blinked the sleep from her eyes so she could get a better look at him. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep. When awake, his features took on a hardened look, his eyes were guarded, and his mouth determinately still, neither frowning nor smiling. He only let those features change occasionally, if he was sparked into action by something. But now, in sleep, every single muscle was relaxed.

Francesca could still remember his face that night, when he'd killed the two men who'd wanted to rob her. His eyes had been wild as he had held the knife, right after slicing their throats. There had been something akin to satisfaction on his face, as if he had enjoyed killing the men. She knew that he had not needed to kill them. It would have been enough to give them a scare, take them up to a fight, and then let them flee.

Francesca knew that he was more than capable of handling two men in a fist fight, yet that didn't seem to be his style. It was more than obvious by now that he wasn't an average Joe; he was, in fact, a dangerous man. What had he said? He'd helped Keyra escape from a max prison. If the law enforcement forces knew about it, then he had most definitely committed a serious crime, helping someone out of prison. People like Francesca did not get involved with troublemakers like Riddick.

He stirred a little in his sleep. She traced his mouth lightly with her fingers, wondering if he could feel it. Rays of sunshine fell across his forehead and she knew that if he opened his eyes, it would hurt him. She nearly gasped in surprise when his mouth parted slightly, her finger still on it. He seemed to be asleep, his breathing was still even. He parted his lips some more and took her finger between his teeth. Francesca squealed.

"What are you doing?" he asked after he let go of her finger. His eyes remained closed.

"Nothing." Francesca wondered for how long he'd been awake.

Another thing that was not in Riddick's nature was to smile. Something had rendered him incapable of showing that particular sign of joy and not for the first time, Francesca wondered if he was even capable of _feeling_ joy. However, his features didn't harden and she knew that maybe, just maybe, he was at least amused. She wished she could see his eyes, because then she would definitely be able to tell.

"You're staring," he said.

By the time Francesca realized he was right, a small blush settled on her cheeks. He cupped her face with one hand. "Your cheeks are warmer than usual."

Francesca blushed a little more. She kissed him lightly, hoping to distract him enough so that he would forget about the small incident.

They would have had a very pleasant morning, only as soon as the kiss began to develop into something more, a loud knock came from the front door.

"Blast," she murmured into his mouth as she began to move away from him and off the bed. He remained impassive.

Another loud knock and Francesca scrambled to find something to put on. Riddick's shirt lay nearby. She flung it over her shoulders, pleased to see that it reached down past her rear, and scrambled to answer to the door.

"Who is it?" she asked, hearing the sounds of shuffling coming from the bedroom. Riddick was getting up as well, probably looking for his clothes.

"It's me," a familiar voice answered, "It's Kyra."

Riddick appeared in the hallway, with his goggles on and a sheet wrapped around his middle. Francesca frantically gestured him back towards the bedroom, and he miraculously obeyed. She opened the door before Kyra could get suspicious.

She wore the same clothes as she had the other day, when Francesca had met her at the bar. She didn't look well; her hair was slightly disheveled and her clothes torn in places.

Francesca let her in, wondering what kind of a mistake she was making. "How did you get my address?"

"I asked around," Kyra answered as Francesca led her into the kitchen.

Francesca panicked a little when Kyra's eyes rested on Riddick's shirt for a fraction longer than they should have, before Francesca began to make coffee.

"So… How can I help you?"

Kyra sat down; to Francesca's dismay it was in same chair in which Riddick usually sat. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Kyra shrug. "I couldn't find Riddick, and since you're the only one I know around here… I thought I'd stop by."

Francesca nodded weakly as she let the coffeemaker broil coffee, keeping herself busy by taking out two mugs, the milk, and some sugar. She dreaded facing Kyra, fearing that all of the things she was hiding would be written across her forehead. She was afraid Kyra would be able to detect Riddick's presence, if that was possible without actually seeing or hearing him.

"What… Why are you looking for this…Riddick?"

Kyra shrugged again. "We're old friends."

"Oh," Francesca exclaimed, not a little disappointed by the vague answer. She was curious to know why Riddick didn't want Kyra around, and why exactly Kyra was looking for him in the first place, after he'd told her to leave him be.

"Nice apartment you have here," Kyra motioned with her head towards the doorway, which was open, therefore it provided a view of the living room and a little of the hallway.

"Thanks," Francesca said as she placed the steaming mug before Kyra, who took it tentatively, sipped a little from it, frowned at the bitter taste, and then helped herself to the sugar and the milk Francesca had placed on the table.

"This is good coffee," Kyra said after she took another sip from the mug, the coffee now a light shade of brown and loaded with sugar.

Francesca wondered how long ago Kyra had eaten or drank anything that didn't taste like rubber or stale water; by the looks of her slim body, it had been quite some time.

Sounds of footsteps came from the other end of the hallway, then of a door being opened. Francesca realized that Riddick was on the move. He was turning on the shower, making the pipes creak a little as hot water was pumped up through them. Kyra raised an eyebrow and Francesca smiled apologetically, instantly deciding that the best way to approach this would be to delay Riddick being discovered for as long as possible. "Boyfriend."

Kyra's mouth formed into a small smile and she looked down at her coffee, as if she was remembering something pleasant.

"What's his name?" she asked Francesca.

Name. Name. Nothing popped up in her head, and she panicked again. "Richie," she nearly spat out her brother's nickname, the first thing she could think of that would sound better besides Jack, the barman, or Mark, her guard back at the club.

Instead of another nod, Kyra's features suddenly became keen.

"That would be short for Richard?"

"Um…" Francesca felt cornered, her stomach suddenly became a knot, and her mind refused to cooperate. "No, just Richie." again, she nearly spat out. Her brother's full name was Richard, but something in Kyra's face warned her that she had better not answer yes to that question.

Kyra gave her a small nod and Francesca struggled to pretend like she hadn't held her breath. Suddenly the sounds of water running ceased, and she nearly bolted out of her chair. "Excuse me," she said to Kyra as she walked towards the bathroom.

By the time she closed the door behind her, her heart was beating wildly and she stared wide-eyed at Riddick. The lighting was dim, as usual, and when he looked at her, an eyebrow was raised pointedly. "Anything wrong?" he asked.

"She doesn't know I know you… I told her that I don't, and now she's here, and you're here… What do I do?"

"She doesn't know?" he asked slowly.

"You heard me," Francesca almost hissed. Then something occurred to her. "What's you first name?"

"Why would you want to know that?"

"I told her your name was Richie, and she asked if that was short for Richard. Her expression changed when I told her the name. Is that significant of anything?"

He chuckled quietly, leaving Francesca to wonder why in the world this was amusing to him.

"So? Your name?"

"Richard."

"Wow… My brother's name is Richard, but I call him Richie… and that's why I told her… Jesus! What do I do?"

He didn't answer, and she noticed his eyes travel downward over her body. His hands were roaming under her shirt, traveling over her bare skin before she could resist him. "Riddick," she whispered as his mouth fell on her shoulder, "Kyra's… in the… kitchen." She bit down a squeal when his hand darted between her legs, teasing her, making her want him. "Stop," she whispered weakly.

"You need to get rid of her," he whispered back, leaving Francesca to wonder if she had imagined his malicious, almost threatening tone. The only thing she could do was nod. He let her go, not a moment too soon, and she fled from the bathroom.

She hadn't been long in the bathroom, but it felt like an eternity. She couldn't avoid being slightly flushed when she went back in the kitchen.

"He's not feeling very well," she explained, but Kyra looked dangerously curious.

"Oh?"

"Headache, I think."

"Is that his shirt?" Kyra pointed to the black t-shirt Francesca was wearing.

"Yeah," Francesca said and thought of Riddick, and his eyes on her.

"Funny," Kyra said, changing the subject. "I could've sworn I heard a familiar voice coming from the bathroom. Do you think I know him?"

"He didn't seem like he knew you."

Kyra lifted her head to the side, and Francesca had a vague feeling of deja-vu. She recognized the look Kyra was fixing on her way too well, as if she was reading her every thought.

"So…" Francesca continued, "Where are you staying?"

"Around."

Francesca saw Kyra begin to move, but she didn't realize what she was doing until she had a knife out, and she was out of her chair, moving towards Francesca. She too got up, backed up against a wall, and realized she had nowhere else to go. She could try and outrun Kyra across the living room, but she had feeling she was going to be stopped by a blade in her back. As Kyra prepared for her attack, Francesca wondered briefly if Riddick was listening in on their conversation. She closed her eyes, expecting a blow, but Kyra didn't touch her.


	6. Want to Know

Francesca opened her eyes; Kyra was hesitating. The knife was poised to strike. Francesca gasped, not because of fear, but because she knew that pose too well. The pieces of the puzzle came together. The two killers, they were right under her roof. It made so much sense, it almost choked her.

Kyra's hesitation had cost her her prey. Although Riddick took his time crossing the living room, Kyra was too shocked to react. The murderous look on his face scared her; it always had. Now it left her terrified because it was directed at her.

"Kyra…" he said as he stopped in the doorway.

She told herself that it wasn't the warning tone in his voice that made her put the knife back in its holster. She ignored Francesca and turned towards Riddick. "Why the hell…?"

"I told you not to look for me anymore," he said in a harsh tone, one Francesca had never heard before.

"But…" For a moment Kyra looked lost and confused. She recovered quickly, but the change had been well noted by Riddick. "I have nowhere to go… You know that. What else could I do? Where could I go? They're all after me, I'm being chased through galaxies, and they always get so close… too close…"

Riddick looked at Francesca, who kept her eyes on the floor, too shocked to move or speak. She wanted to run to him, have his arms around her. She wanted to forget that she had almost gotten killed in her own kitchen, all because she'd been stupid enough to open the door for a stranger. She wanted to forget he was the killer who had the entire city in a hushed panic. She wanted him to make it all seem like a bad dream; she would have laughed at the irony if she could have gotten her muscles to work.

Kyra followed his gaze, and her eyes inevitably landed on Francesca. She looked back at Riddick and again his expression shocked her. She had only seen it once before in her life; the day they'd left M6-117, before Fry's death. He looked at Francesca like he had looked at Fry when they had rescued Kyra and Imam. The expression on his face reflected all of the feelings he was keeping inside. He liked her and wanted her to know it, but somehow couldn't bring himself to express that. He looked like he would give anything to have Francesca look at him like he wasn't a killer. The way Fry had looked at him before she'd died.

His stance was tense, but not defensive. Suddenly it dawned on Kyra that she had barged in on a different world; much more different than the one outside, on the streets.

Riddick had found himself someone who knew nothing about him, but got attached to him nonetheless. Francesca was someone who didn't judge him like everyone did, someone who was almost oblivious to all the bullshit going on in the world. Yet to Kyra, Francesca didn't look like the type of person who lived with her head in the clouds, a characteristic which belonged to most of Riddick's previous 'female companions.'

Before Riddick could do anything else, Francesca darted towards him and wrapped her arms around him. Kyra couldn't bring herself to tear her eyes away. For a moment Riddick looked unsure of himself, but his arms went around Francesca, who looked small compared to him. He kissed the top of her head. "It's ok," he whispered in her hair, "You're fine."

She nodded weakly, briefly noticing that he was wearing one of her brother's plain white shirts.

"You can stay here," Riddick said, now looking at Kyra, "But you have to behave."

Despite herself, she gave him an exasperated look. "I'm not a child…"

"Kyra…"

When Francesca came to, she managed to separate herself from Riddick's safety and look up at him. "Why would you tell her she can stay? Riddick.. she tried to kill me!"

He shook his head. "She won't try to kill you again… Will you Kyra?"

She crossed her arms.

Francesca looked at Riddick, then at Kyra, then at Riddick again. "She tried to kill me for no reason whatsoever and you think I'm still going to be okay with her staying here?"

"Oh, I had a reason." Kyra said from her across the room.

"Shut up." Riddick warned her.

"You're insane." Francesca said, looking at Kyra.

Kyra raised an eyebrow at Francesca's accusation.

Before Riddick could intervene Francesca left the room, and slammed the bedroom door behind her. She needed to be alone to think. She also needed to be away from _him_.

* * *

Francesca woke up to the touch of a pair of soft lips upon her own. The same lips went on to touch her cheeks, her forehead, her chin, and her eyes. She swung an arm around his neck as she woke up, and he laid himself next to her on the bed. His giant arms went around her, and he pulled her close.

"You ok?" he asked.

She nodded, although she was not sure how she felt.

"You scared me," he whispered, to her surprise.

She lifted her head to look at him. "How come?"

"Kyra's reckless, and I think she would have…"

"Would have what?"

"…Killed you without a second thought."

Francesca resisted the urge to shiver, remembering the look on Kyra's face. The look on Kyra's face had been that of a ruthless beast who wanted nothing else but its prey.

"But she didn't kill me," Francesca said, trying to reassure him as well as herself. "I'm here."

When he kissed her again she could still smell green and forest on him, even though he'd taken a shower. Their kiss, full of need and desire ended abruptly when the clatter of pots and pans came from the kitchen.

"Is she still here?"

He nodded.

Francesca sighed. "For how long?"

"Until we get out of here."

"And where are you going to go?"

"You're coming along."

"I am?"

He nodded, and then shrugged. "Unless you'd rather stay…"

"If I leave, what am I going to do? Where am I going to live? Will I be able to get a job? These are things I need to know! I can't just pick up and leave."

"You won't need to worry about that."

"Who's going to help me get those things, you?"

"They're not going to be a problem for you anymore," he stated simply, trying to shut her up.

Francesca rolled her eyes and got out of bed. She began to pick up clothes off the floor, realizing what a mess she had let the apartment become. "Kyra can take the guest room… and you…" She thought about him having to deal with her poor little couch, and for the couch's sake she decided that he had no place sleeping on it. "You'll just have to sleep with me." Her mouth formed into a grin before she could stop it.

Back in the kitchen, Kyra was engaged in a world war with Francesca's pans, which refused to cooperate as she tried to pull out the one pan she needed from a bottom cupboard. "Fuck you!" She yelled at nothing in particular as the pans crumbled out of the cupboard and onto the floor.

Francesca crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "Need help?"

"No, I've got this." Kyra muttered as she gingerly lifted up the pan she wanted, placed it on the counter then squatted by the mess of pans. She began the place them back in the cupboard, careful as she stacked them back neatly. "Your kitchen's a mess."

"You can cook?" Francesca asked, ignoring the comment.

Kyra shrugged. "I used to, before…" her voice trailed off, reluctant to recall that brief period in her life when everything was truly ok. Riddick had finally managed to find them a safe place to stay, where they wouldn't be bothered by curious neighbors. Kyra remembered that she had been happy, because life with him had been uncomplicated. It had been easy for them to live together; he looked after her in his own way and she looked after him in hers. They had had peace and she had been content. It was the only time in her life which Kyra could remember when she had felt truly content. Then mercs had managed to get word of Riddick's whereabouts. Everything changed after that.

"Tell me something," Francesca said, putting a new spin on the subject. "What's going on between you and Riddick?"

Kyra looked away. "It's not really something I talk about with his… whatever it is that you are to him."

For a brief moment Francesca also wondered what she was to him.

"Will it make me like him more, or less?"

Kyra turned her green eyes on Francesca, which were now gentle. "Funny you should like him. No one's liked him in a long, long time."

"Well?"

"Depends on you. Some people think it's weird that a cold hearted murderer would warm up to a 10 year old girl pretending to be a boy. They wouldn't consider it normal that out of 6 people who needed protection he chose to look after the youngest, the one who was most helpless, the one who would've been the easiest to dispense of."

Francesca's breath caught in her throat. She wondered if she was ready to hear the rest of the story.

Kyra took in a deep breath and continued. "Eight years ago we crashed on planet M6-117. There was an eclipse, and we had to get out as soon as possible. Many died, but the few of us who were still alive owed it all to Riddick. He was easily the strongest man there, with the most efficient survival skills.

I was a kid with a vivid imagination so everything about him fascinated me. I think it was mostly because most of the things I imagined he had done were probably true. Anyway, there was a merc, Johns, who offered Riddick a deal. If he could get them out alive, Johns would report Riddick dead so other mercs would stop looking for him. Riddick took the deal. He got us far, even in the dark, with the few lights we had. Eventually they needed a plan to get past the bioraptors. Johns proposed to use me as bait… Riddick killed Johns."

Francesca nodded, without knowing she did so.

"There was a woman, our captain, Carolyn Fry. Her determination was the only thing that really kept us going. Riddick got to the ship first, managed to get it up and running. I think he was about to leave without us when she ran after him. She wouldn't let him go alone. She told him she'd die for us. That really got to him, and I think she sparked something inside of him. They came back to get me and Imam, the only ones left alive. Something happened when we finally got to the ship. Riddick stayed behind to distract the raptors. He wouldn't have made it back, but despite all his bullshit Fry went after him. In the end, the bioraptors got her. Riddick changed after that."

Francesca settled down in a chair, looking down at her hands. As she thought about the baby growing inside of her, she wondered if Riddick was capable of love, and if he would love his child. She looked up at Kyra, and tried to imagine her as a 10 year old with Riddick by her side. It wasn't a bad image. It softened her perception of who Riddick really was. Maybe he had loved Kyra, as a sister, maybe he still did. Maybe that was why he wanted to be away from her, to protect her. Would there come a time when he would do the same for Francesca and their child, leave them because that was the safer thing to do?

Francesca shivered without knowing why.

"How do you like him now?" Kyra asked, almost rhetorically, as if she expected the answer to be no.

"It explains a few things." Francesca managed to say.

"Like?"

"Why he doesn't talk about himself." Francesca paused. "Is that when he stopped smiling, after Carolyn died?"

The question surprised Kyra. She nodded. _Tell 'em Riddick's dead, _he'd said, _He died somewhere on that planet. _"So what's between _you_ and him?" she asked Francesca.

"It's not something you want to hear about your big brother," Francesca muttered.

Kyra let out a laugh. "Trust me, I've heard it all."

"To tell you the truth, _I _don't even know what's going on. He keeps on showing up on my doorstep."

"Do you want him to?"

Francesca took a good look at Kyra and she realized she was the only person with whom she could really talk to about Riddick. "Yeah, I do."

"What, are you two friends now?" Riddick's voice came from the living room. He was walking towards them.

"You could say that," Kyra spoke first, surprising Francesca.

"Huh." Riddick grabbed himself a beer from the fridge.

Francesca stood as soon as Riddick settled himself down onto a chair. "I should get to work. Don't wanna be late."

Kyra watched Riddick stare after Francesca's retreating back as she left the kitchen. "What kind of trouble are you in now?" Kyra muttered as soon as Francesca was out of earshot. She sensed the air thicken when the two of them were in the same room together.

Riddick looked at Kyra, the expression on his face unreadable. "She's pregnant."

Kyra felt speechless.


	7. Hello My Lover

Francesca could not remember the last time she had been on a ship. She didn't really know what it was like to feel the power of engines lifting her up with the speed of 300, 400 kilometers. She hadn't realized that getting past the atmosphere of a planet was the hardest part, the scariest part, and after that it would be like riding on a cloud.

She looked at the ship Riddick had "borrowed" and wondered if it was capable of flying thousands of light years away, across galaxies, to wherever Riddick meant to take them.

"What do you think?" he asked Kyra as she circled around the small ship.

"Looks like it'll do quite nicely." She opened the entrance ramp by the side of the ship. "It looks spacey enough, three sleeping cots plus two pilot chairs." She turned to Riddick. "Not bad at all." She was impressed. But she knew that he wouldn't have gone through all the trouble of getting them a half decent ship if it hadn't been for Francesca. "What's with the wooden boxes?"

"Just some things we'll need."

The cargo space below the main level was larger than on most ships of the same size. Kyra realized it was a merchant ship. "Where'd you get it from?"

Riddick shrugged, watching Francesca as she carried a small bag and secured it inside, on the main level. "Someone I know."

Kyra raised her eyebrow. "Who would that be?"

"Remember Eve?"

"The merc?"

"She changed careers, deals with guns now. Not much of a change, but… she was helpful."

Kyra gave him a sly smile. "I'm sure she was."

"Kyra…"

"What, she gave you the ship, didn't she?" she smiled innocently.

Riddick turned away and picked up some of Francesca's heaviest luggage. Kyra went inside the cargo, where she found Francesca arranging boxes.

"Who's Eve?"

Kyra wondered how much Francesca had heard. "She was part of the last merc team who went after Riddick. He… sort of spared her life."

Francesca's interrogation was cut short when Riddick opened up the back ramp and brought in more boxes. She set about securing them, trying to make her head to stop buzzing with questions. There was so much she didn't know about Riddick, and he was always reluctant to answer anything about himself whenever she asked him.

Kyra couldn't help but look at Riddick while he kept his eyes on Francesca as she kept herself busy. She was far enough along in the pregnancy to show even through her larger shirts. Her belly was a small, perfect half moon. Kyra recognized the look on Riddick's face as he watched Francesca, because it was a look he had often given her when she was younger. His careful attention, the way his eyes followed Francesca's every movement as if he wanted to make sure she wasn't doing anything that was too much for her all indicated that deep need of his to protect.

Her breath caught when his eyes suddenly turned to her and she realized she had been caught staring. She wondered what he saw in her eyes; his right eyebrow twitched just a little. He moved away.

"I think this is all of it." Francesca said as soon as she was done securing the last of the boxes. "We should get going. Oh, where did you say we were going, Riddick?" she asked, not for the first time.

As usual, he remained impassive. "I didn't say."

"It was worth a try," she said and winked at Kyra. She walked past Riddick and used the back ramp to get out of the ship.

A tall and beautiful woman walked into the hangar, heading straight for Francesca. She wore jeans and a cotton t-shirt, an unusual attire for someone who carried a rifle by her side. Francesca noted that the gun didn't look hostile, so she managed to unclench the muscles on her jaw as the woman greeted her. "You must be Francesca," she held out her hand.

Francesca took it. "Yeah, I am. Who are you?"

"I'm Eve. I've heard quite a lot about you." Her eyes inevitably drifted down to Francesca's belly, and a strange look passed over her eyes. Was it… jealousy?

"Oh…" Francesca wondered when Eve had had the opportunity to hear things about her. A small spark of anger ignited inside of her. She didn't know how Riddick spent his time when he wasn't in her apartment, and she had never thought to ask. However, Eve's presence caused a whole new light to be shed on Riddick's character. Not for the first time, Francesca wondered if it was a mistake to trust him.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" Riddick called out in a friendly voice, exiting the ship from the main level.

Francesca hated how Eve's face suddenly lit up at the sound of his voice. She was getting more and more uncomfortable by the minute.

"Just dropped by to say good bye."

Francesca turned away, almost disgusted with herself, with Eve, with Riddick… She had no reason to jump to conclusions like that. Whatever she should have or should have not been doing, she decided it was better for everyone if she spent as little time around Eve as possible. She went back into the ship and settled herself comfortably on one of the cots, waiting for Kyra and Riddick. Her nerves felt strained and her stomach twisted in knots of anxiety. She hated the fact that she didn't know where she was going, she hated the fact that she was leaving, and most of all she hated how she felt like she had no control over her own life anymore. In the past weeks it had been Riddick who had done all of the decisions. He had made her quit her job, he had almost isolated her from everyone she knew… She had stopped going to the pub because of him… She had left everything behind because he had insisted upon it.

Francesca put her head in her hands and took a few deep breaths to calm herself. She wouldn't have done any of those things if she wouldn't have agreed with him. He was right to make her leave. He was doing her a favor. It was actually something she had imagined she would do many times, but she had never taken any steps towards actually leaving.

"Ready for takeoff?" Kyra asked as she entered.

Francesca nodded weakly and settled in a sitting position, strapping herself to the cot which had now become a chair.

Riddick closed and locked the ramp, then settled next to Kyra in one of the pilot seats. He pressed a few buttons above his head and to his right, and the ship roared to life. Lights flickered, small bleeps went off once in a while. The hangar door opened to reveal bright sunlight and a clear terrain. He put on his goggles as Francesca squinted against the light. He pulled a lever and the engines roared louder. Kyra turned two knobs and the ship buckled slightly before it hovered above the ground, using nothing but it's bottom engines. They began to move slowly, until the ship exited the hangar completely. Riddick lead it to a space where he could see only clear concrete as far as his eyes could reach, and the ship began to zoom forward. It's nose began to lift and soon enough they went flying through the air. Francesca's heartbeat seemed to be one with the roar of the engines as they took her higher and higher from everything she had ever known. The sky was a shade of blue she hadn't seen on it before, and as they climbed higher and higher it got darker and darker, until she couldn't see blue anymore. Soon a starry sky appeared before her eyes and she almost gasped. She had never stars so bright, and they all looked so much smaller from the city.

"Secondary engines…on." Riddick muttered as the loud roar subsided, replaced by only a gentle hum. Francesca didn't realize that their speed had doubled, and it was going to triple soon as they traveled over the fabric of the universe, undisturbed by gravity or elements.

Riddick unstrapped himself and began to move around, pushing oddities of buttons.

"How long are we going to be in cryo?" Kyra asked.

"Probably a few days."

"I'll go first. I don't know about you guys, but I could definitely use the rest." She settles down in her cot and let the handles strap themselves around her ankles. She pressed some settings and as soon as she closed her eyes, she was gone into her dream world.

"She's out," Francesca chuckled and stood up to stretch.

Riddick was not far from her and she realized that for the first time since Kyra had come to her apartment, they were finally alone, without her observing their every movement.

There was nothing on Riddick's face that indicated that he had noted the difference in their company. He sat down in his pilot chair, looking over charts and courses.

"Is that… Pluto?" Francesca asked, looking over his shoulder. There was a picture of a small, bland planted on his screen.

"We might pass by it, and I'm trying to make sure we don't crash into it."

Francesca leaned against the back of his chair, her mouth close to the sensitive skin behind his ear. "Wanna tell me where we're going?" she whispered.

"No," he said, determined.

"Come on…" she put her mouth on his skin, enjoying the smell and the touch of him. "Please?" she said as she traveled over his jaw line, noting how his head turned ever so slowly to her convenience.

"You'll find out soon enough," he muttered before claiming her mouth.

He was as intoxicating as ever. Before she knew it he turned his chair around and she straddled his lap. Her breathing quickened as his hands went under her clothes, pausing over her rounded belly before they traveled upwards. He became the Riddick she knew as she reacquainted herself with his body.

His hand reached for something above his head, and two panels came together to form a wall between the pilot chairs and the passenger chairs. Francesca almost squealed in delight as she stripped him of his shirt.

She didn't care where their clothes landed as they settled back down on the chair, naked as the day. She was surprised to find how well Kama Sutra suited the seat.

She remained glued to him long after their lust abated, dozing off in the comfort of his arms. He made no objection, procuring a blanket out of nowhere and pulling it over their entwined bodies. He felt so warm and comfortable as she lay against him that in the deep crevices of her mind Francesca started to wonder how she had ever fallen asleep without him. "I love you," she whispered, half unconsciously. She didn't realize that his arms had tightened around her just a fraction.

* * *

Francesca woke up in her cot, with a blanket wrapped around her naked body. She turned her head and could see that Kyra was still fast asleep. Across from Francesca Riddick looked just as wiped out as Kyra, his lips parted slightly. Every light in the ship was off, except for the controls. The cuffs slid away as soon as she stirred, and Francesca began to look for her clothes. They were scattered around one of the pilot chairs. A small smile crept across Francesca's face as she sat in the chair after she was dressed. It still smelled like Riddick.

She turned around in the chair to look out at the stars. Her breath caught in her throat as the ship approached the dark side of what looked like a large planet with a ring circling its circumference. The ring was the only illuminated object Francesca could see, and it became apparent as the planet got closer and closer that the ship was gliding across it. Slowly the ship managed to free itself from the shadow of the planet, and sunlight filled the cabin inside. Francesca couldn't see the source of the light, and the ship entered into the tundra of another large planet, disabling any kind of light to enter fall on the ship. Francesca sighed, wondering for the thousandth's time why she had agreed to follow Riddick so blindly. Why was he so sure that they wouldn't crash into the next planet that arrived in their path?

The ship turned a smooth curve, allowing Francesca to see a small part of the planet with the ring as it was illuminated by a sun she couldn't see. Her brain had a hard time adjusting to the immensity of the objects surrounding her. Bright sunlight reached her eyes yet again as the ship flew by the second planet, and soon the only objects Francesca could become aware of was the sun and the other stars surrounding the sun, though they were very, very far away. Francesca got up and went back to her cot, and tried to fall back asleep.

A few minutes went by, after which she heard a few rapid beeps come from the control panel. She heard the sound of cuffs being sliding away, and she saw Riddick leave his cot and head for his pilot chair. Francesca got up too, and when she looked outside she saw that a small, red planet lay directly in their part. Riddick pulled up a chart on the main screen and carefully redirected their route and the ship soundlessly glided away to the left. Francesca settled into the other chair.

He turned his head to look at her. "No worries. We're almost there."

The sun was eclipsed by the small planet, though it didn't seem so small as they passed by it, not too far from it. It momentarily blocked the sun, leaving the ship in darkness. Riddick's eyes shone brilliant in the darkness, and Francesca imagined a ghost of a smile touching them.

"Look," he said, pointing somewhere in front of them.

Besides the sun and the stars, all Francesca could see was a faint, illuminated curved line. She figured it as another planet, and the rest of it lay in darkness. "What's that?"

"Your new home."

Francesca gasped, a new kind of excitement settling in her stomach, a happy excitement. Unconsciously she put her hand over her belly, enjoying the firm roundness of it, knowing that a life was growing there. "Our new home," she whispered and watched as Riddick's features softened. She reached out and touched his hand with hers. He looked down at it, seeming to examine her fingers. He turned his hand so that their palms touched. His fingers went around hers and he lifted up her hand and pressed it to his mouth. Francesca got out her chair, almost chocked by emotion, and took his face in her hands. She kissed his softly and he let her. Time seemed to suspend itself, as if an unknown force wanted them to have this moment for as long as possible. His breath was soft against her cheek.

Someone cleared their throat behind them, and Francesca willed herself to move away. For the briefest of moments his eyes remained closed. "Look," he said again.

Francesca whirled around, noticing that they were now much closer to the planet she had seen earlier. She could clearly see its surface, as they approached it from the day side. Her heart skipped several beats. Sparse swirls of white covered it's surface, playing peek-a-boo with the royal blue of its surface. Patches of soft brown and olive green occasionally appeared as the swirls of white glided slowly. Francesca had never seen anything like it.

"What's it called?" she asked.

"Earth." Riddick muttered. She gasped.

"But Earth has been dead for almost 200 years!"

Riddick shook his head. "It's true that it died in '132, and it stayed dead for nearly 50 years. No one bothered to check afterwards, but life began to flourish on it again. The atmosphere managed to balance itself, since it's such a dynamic planet. In fact, it's the most dynamic planet human beings had ever inhabited. It's deserted now, save for the plants and animals."

"Nature regenerates itself," Francesca whispered, voicing something one of her high school teachers had once told her. "It always seeks balance, and it doesn't stop until it gains it. Nowhere else are the forces of nature stronger as on Earth." She paused. "I never thought I'd get to see it with my own eyes. Incredible."

Earth became bigger and bigger as they approached it. Kyra settled in her pilot seat, and strapped herself to it A big smile was plastered on her face. She looked as if she was as pleased as Francesca. "We're probably enter the atmosphere in less than 15 minutes."

Riddick nodded and pushed a few buttons as a few beeps went off. "Secure yourself," he told Francesca as he clicked a few belts in place around his torso.

Francesca turned her cot into a chair and pulled at the straps. Excitement bubbled inside of her. Suddenly she realized why Riddick had smelled like forest and dirt. "You've been here before, haven't you?" she asked Riddick.

"Had to make sure it was inhabitable. And it is, very much."


	8. Ends on Earth

Riddick landed the ship on an old dirt airstrip, situated on the outskirts of a fir and pine forest. An ancient, seemingly deserted airplane hangar lay nearby, almost entirely covered by ivy. Two men clad in dark dress-like robes emerged out of the side of the abandoned hangar, heading towards the ship.

Francesca let out a held breath as the roar of the engines finally subsided. Soon both secondary and main engines were off, and the quiet was almost deafening. It took her a while to get used to the stillness of the floor. She followed Kyra's example and unclasped her own straps. She got up from the chair, and she immediately realized that there was a difference in the way she was able to move around. She descended down in the cargo level, where Kyra was already unfastening the restraints on the various boxes they had brought. Riddick was still in his pilot seat, fumbling with the controls.

Francesca began to help Kyra with the boxes, all the while noticing how much more easily she was able to move around.

"There's something odd about this place…" she muttered.

"Gravity's better." Kyra said. She pushed a button to her left and the back ramp of the ship began to descend down on the ground.

A waft of fresh air drifted inside, making Francesca lightheaded.

"Incredible…"

Riddick brushed shoulders with her as he lifted up a box and began to carry it outside. She looked at him, wondering why, of all places, had he chosen this particular planet to bring her to. She picked up one of the lighter boxes and followed him.

Everything she saw, heard and smelled was new to Francesca. She imagined that she felt like a newborn baby when it first opened its eyes to the world, and let out its first wailing cry. She saw things she had only seen in pictures before, things she hadn't even dared to dream about. Mountains, trees, grass…

Soon she found out that the abandoned hangar was, in fact, not abandoned but used as a garage and storehouse. They were helped by the two men, who brought with them something that looked like a small pick-up ship, except that it was on rubber wheels and made a terrible chocking noise as it shifted gears. They loaded the boxes onto the back of the truck, which then left them and took a narrow dirt road that ran around behind the hangar and continued deep into the forest.

Riddick, Kyra and Francesca were left alone once again. "What in the name of all the galaxies was that?" Francesca asked.

"Who cares, as long as it does the job." Kyra said and shrugged. "So where to now, Riddick?"

"We follow the truck on foot."

"What about the ship?" Francesca asked.

Kyra turned around to look behind her. She could see mountains in the distance, but before them lay only wide open space. "I don't think we should worry about that."

Riddick led the way as they entered the forest, deviating from the main road onto a much narrower one, which led even deeper into the forest. To Francesca it looked like it was leading nowhere.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked him. The only other sounds besides the sound of her own voice came from high up in the trees, made by various of birds. The calm was almost frightening.

"It's a shortcut." He said and continued walking. If it would not have been for the novelty of the place, Francesca would have been very irritated by his cold behavior towards her. She was too distracted to notice the new tenseness in his shoulders and the new determined expression on his face.

There was something familiar about the place, Francesca realized; it was the smell, it reminded her of Riddick.

Soon they reached a clearing, and Francesca saw that all around there were small buildings and huts. People milled around, some working, some sitting idly and chatting with one another. The smell of food hung in the air as Riddick led them into the town. He stopped by a two story house and pushed open the gate. A short stone fence surrounded a small garden and a paved path meandered up from the gate, to the entrance of the house.

As she took a closer look around, Francesca realized that the garden wasn't really a garden. There was no shrubbery, no flowers or vegetable patches. There was just dirt and grass and what seemed like a newly planted tree on the corner.

Kyra went in first, her combat boots noiseless as she stepped on the smooth stones which made up the path. The front door was unlocked so she pushed it open. She walked into a small but cozy hallway, with a high rounded ceiling and a smooth marble floor. She had expected to see lots of concrete and very little of everything else. Instead she saw wooden beams supporting the ceiling and wooden walls making up the inside of the house. In front of her there was an archway, which opened up a view into another smaller hallway, and she could see the beginning of a spiral staircase on the right of that hallway. There were two doors on each side of the main hallways, both framed in the same manner as the pointed archway. The doors were made of a solid, dark wood.

Riddick walked behind Kyra and opened the door to her left. Past this door was a sunny room, well furnished with solid wooden furniture. The walls were made of the same wood as in the hallway. The ceiling was a light blue color and the carpet of a darker shade of blue.

Francesca realized this was the living room. She watched Kyra settle down onto the plush brown couch and Riddick move to the window.

"They're bringing in your boxes," he said.

Francesca watched him from the doorway; the room around him seemed too small for his bulky frame and his hand too large as it lay on the window frame. He had his goggles on, so she couldn't see what was going on behind those silver orbs of his, but she thought he looked sad, almost forlorn. His lips were pressed tightly together and his jaw seemed hardened, as if he was clenching his teeth. She moved towards him and put her arm around his waist, barely able to reach as she raised herself up on her tiptoes and touched his cheek with her lips. He turned his head towards her, as if he'd just noticed her.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

He shook his head slowly. "Nothing."

Francesca looked at Kyra, fishing for an answer, but her face was stony as she kept her green eyes fixed on the window.

* * *

It took Francesca a few days to get everything unpacked. She'd found out that upstairs was a main hallways similar to the one downstairs, with the same amount of doors. There was a master bedroom, two guest rooms and a large bathroom for the master bedroom; the two guest rooms shared a smaller bathroom.

Riddick and Kyra had slept in the guestrooms and Francesca in the master. The king-sized bed had seemed ridiculously oversized with only her in it.

"What's up with Riddick?" Francesca had asked Kyra after she'd seen him in one of his sad and solitary moods. Kyra had only shrugged and looked away.

To Francesca it seemed like they were both avoiding her. Riddick was distant, sometimes even downright cold. Kyra, although she had been helpful in setting up the house, wasn't as friendly as before and she spoke very little to Francesca.

Francesca had been increasingly aware of the fact that Kyra was different when Riddick was around. She didn't lose her temple as quickly, she cursed less and she looked at him when he spoke. When she was with Francesca, every little thing gone wrong set her temper off and she would stay cross for the entire day. Or until Riddick would show up. Francesca blamed this behavior on the monotony of the way they had spent their days, packing and unpacking boxes, every day the same thing. She had to admit that there were moments when she would have rather gone tree-hacking with the villagers rather than open another goddamned box. However, the entire experience had been too new and exciting for her to really feel as bored as Kyra seemed to be.

She was interrupted from her musings by shouts coming from the front of the house. She heard Riddick's irritated voice, and thought twice before going to the window to eavesdrop. In the end curiosity got the better of her, and she approached it slowly, careful not to be seen.

Kyra had her hand on the gate, blocking Riddick's way as he tried to pass. "No, I'm going with you," she said, "I'm sick of this 'it's better this way' bullshit! I don't need you to protect me anymore; I can take care of myself."

He shook his head, looking tired and defeated. "I'm not going to put you in danger just because you're too fucking hardheaded to understand." He spoke through his teeth, trying to keep his voice down, though Francesca could hear him from across the garden.

Kyra crossed her arms and stood her ground. "I'm coming with you whether you want to or not."

Francesca moved away from the window when she saw him push Kyra aside and enter the little garden. He seemed to hesitate before he came inside to look for Francesca, finding her in the living-room. He turned down the blinds and took off his goggles.

"I have to go away for a while," he said, looking right at her.

"When will you be back?" Francesca asked, feeling a familiar knot settle in her stomach.

"I don't know," he said.

Francesca nodded, steeling herself against the pain that would inevitably come. "Why?"

"Someone's put another price tag on my head. I either have to disappear or make the bounty go away."

"What are you gonna do?"

"Track down whoever's doing this to me. I know it came from Helium 5, so I'll start there."

"That's halfway across the universe!"

"I thought I should say goodbye, in case…"

"In case what?" she cut him off. Her throat suddenly refused to work properly.

"In case I don't come back." He said it so calmly, so normally, it made Francesca wish that she was strong enough to knock him down and pound some sense into him.

He turned and left the room before Francesca could say anything else. He went past Kyra, who stood dumbfounded in the living room.

There were so many things Francesca wished she'd said, and did. She remembered vividly another time when she had crumbled down onto the floor just like she was doing now, with tears staining her cheeks. The feelings were the same, yet she couldn't shake off the memory of his last words. _In case I don't come back._ Something in the way he'd said those words had stirred inside a terrible kind of fear. What was her world without him? He was the fiber that made up her very existence. He'd given her the kind of home she had never dreamed she'd have, he'd given her a new life, a child; he'd given her hope!

* * *

Late in the afternoon one of the town women stopped by to deliver some fresh milk. She found Francesca crumbled into a ball on the floor, asleep. She woke her up gently and guided her to the couch. As soon as her head rested onto the soft cushions, sleep overtook her again. The woman covered her with a soft blanket. "It's going to be alright," she said, "You just sleep now. He'll be back."

* * *

Note: A few of the events in this story happen during the Chronicles of Riddick, but I've changed some things around. 


	9. Back Soon

The small town erupted with excitement when they heard news of a ship landing on the airstrip. 'Riddick's ship' they kept saying, and Francesca's heart skipped a beat every time she heard them. Many rushed to the air strip, leaving behind unfinished chores and uncooked meals so that they could go receive their hero.

Francesca wasn't one of them. Her two month-old belly was already becoming an extra weight to her body.

It had barely been two weeks since Riddick's departure. He hadn't left on a light note, and for him to return so soon…

It didn't take long for the villagers to come back. Francesca heard the pick-up truck stop in front of her house. A single door slammed shut. Someone went past the small gate.

Francesca stepped gingerly on the stone steps, going down to the main hallway downstairs. The front door opened, and behind it stepped a small figure, with long disheveled hair, drooping shoulders and a heavy step. The figure looked up, and behind all the mud and the cuts, Francesca recognized Kyra's eyes staring back at her. They didn't seem to notice her as she stepped closer.

Kyra seemed rooted to the spot where she stood. Not a muscle moved. Francesca had never seen a human being look so utterly defeated. Francesca went to Kyra before she could collapse, as she had feeling she might, and put her arms around the girl.

"He's… he's…" the words were chocked by tears as Kyra clung to Francesca. Sobs shook her slim body. Absently, Francesca noticed she had lost a significant amount of weight. "I couldn't get to him fast enough… There were too many of them… always too many…"

"Sh…" Francesca tried to keep her own tears at bay as she led Kyra upstairs, to the guestroom Riddick had taken.

"He was so still, Francesca… I couldn't even go to him…" Kyra's tears were uncontrollable and she refused to let go of Francesca as she set her down on the bed.

Francesca couldn't allow herself to believe Kyra, at least not yet. She put an arm around Kyra's shoulders as she handed her two small, white pills. "Take these," she whispered, trying to make her pay attention. "They'll help."

Kyra obeyed and Francesca held her until she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

A new kind of quiet settled over the village and all around it. Even the animals seemed to mourn him. Even the birds had stopped singing.

The day after Kyra had arrived the skies had darkened and rain had begun to fall ceaselessly.

It seemed as if the sky did all the crying for her, because Francesca never felt a single tear slide down her cheeks as grief enveloped her every morning as she rolled out of bed.

One rainy afternoon she went outside into the little garden, now blooming with flowers, and let the rain comfort her, imagining each drop as a soft kiss from him. Although the sun was high up in the sky, the dark-grey clouds let only a shadow of its brilliance pass onto the drenched earth. Francesca looked around, thinking that the dimness was perfect for him. If he were with her she would have been able to see his silver eyes sparkle as the rain tickled his bald head. She let out a small chuckle, thinking of it. She saw a dark figure emerge through the mist the rain was creating, imagining him walking up to her. The figure passed by without so much as a pause, and Francesca looked up at the sky again. The rain fell down, heavier.

The baby kicked for the first time, announcing its presence to the world. Francesca brought her hands over her belly, and despite everything, she managed to smile. How could she be sad when a small piece of hope grew right inside of her?

Kyra had become a subdued creature. The little light in her eyes had dimmed. She got by every day mechanically, doing what she needed to do to keep her body functioning, but nothing more. Sometimes Francesca felt guilty for not being as grief stricken as Kyra, and she wished she could impart onto her some of the little joy that kept her going every day.

"Kyra," Francesca whispered one day, over dinner. "Feel this," she took her hand and placed it over her belly as the baby kicked.

For the first time in a long time, Kyra's expression changed. Her eyes widened and when she looked at Francesca she saw that a little bit of her old light was returning in her eyes. She bent down and put her ear to Francesca's stomach as the baby kicked again.

"I think it likes you," Francesca said, a small smile spread over her lips.

"Incredible," Kyra whispered, looking at the pregnant belly.

"I'm going away for a while," she announced to Francesca a month later. "There are some things I need to take care of."

Francesca nodded. "Can I come with?"

Kyra shook her determinately, though not unkindly. "It's going to be a long journey, and I need it to happen fast."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm gonna visit some old friends." She paused. "I think they're expecting me."

By now Francesca knew better than to believe that Kyra actually had other friends. "Kyra?"

Kyra looked surprised at Francesca's tone. "It's alright, I won't do anything stupid. It's just a visit I need to pay."

Francesca nodded again. "Okay. You'll be back soon, right?"

"Of course."

* * *

The universe seemed to stretch on forever as Kyra plotted yet another course onto the control panel, working her way through yet another solar system. She needed to keep a low profile if she wanted to do this right, and keeping close to planets was the best way to do that.

It wasn't hard to find them. All she had to do was follow the trail of dead planets they left behind.

They hadn't landed yet on their next target, which gave Kyra some time to get there before them. As soon as they reached the planet, they followed the same pattern as always; they killed off the forces, then rounded up the rest of the people and offered them conversion or death. Kyra managed to disguise herself well and blend in with the crowd. She noticed that the Lord Marshall had gotten himself a new purifier.

She was amongst the first who offered themselves up as converts. After the Lord Marshall was satisfied with the number, he turned his back to the rest and the guards led the new converts to the ships. They split them in groups of ten, and then led each group to a different ship. Kyra followed obediently, knowing that if she waited everything out her chance for revenge would come. If it was the last thing she did, she was going to make them pay for what they had done to Riddick.

The pain never went away, no matter what they said; not the pain she felt from those damn metal rods nor the pain inside, nor the one engraved deep in her heart. Sometimes she wished she could get away from herself just so she wouldn't have to feel anymore. Every waking moment the pain of her loss tormented her. Even after Riddick had left, back when she was still an innocent kid, she had always had the knowledge that she would eventually see him again. And when they would finally meet, she would surprise him because she would be better and stronger than any previous version of herself he remembered.

She had surprised him that first day on Crimatoria.

Kyra had to admit that that had been one of the best few days of her life. She could never forget the pure delight she had felt when she'd seen him brought down into the jail, tied to that rope. _He's here_, she'd though, _He's here for me!_ Then she'd let him find her, hunt her, until he'd had her cornered. His face had been so close to hers, she had felt his breath, so soft upon her lips as he chided her as if she still needed to listen to him. He'd had her in such a compromising position, his arm in between her legs and her arms above her head. Shivers went down her spine whenever she remembered how it felt to have such power at her fingertips, his power, his strength… He'd felt her warmth as he'd pinned her down and questioned her. She hadn't missed the brief look of longing that had passed over his features. He had looked at her like he would have looked at a woman, and the thrill had been almost intoxicating.

Kyra almost forgot about the metal rods as she concentrated on a particular memory that had been preserved in her mind without the usual damages of time. That night, somehow, they'd managed to find each other. Need had driven all sleep away, and she had been awake and alert when his footsteps had sounded on the cool rock. He had only come to talk, figure things out, catch up on time they'd lost. But Kyra had sensed that talk wasn't going to satisfy either of them that day. Despite her new confidence and his recognition of her new abilities, this had been the one thing she had never been sure about.

She had let her body tell her what to do. She had sought him; her hands had touched his shoulders in a friendly, compassionate way. Her fingers had kneaded out the knots in his back, relaxing him, making him as relaxed and as docile as a cat. Emotion and lust had eventually gotten the best of her.

She had moved in front of him, taking care to make sure no other part of her touched him. Her lips, which had been so unused to touching skin, had landed gently on his forehead. His hands had gone around her waist and he'd pulled her close. For a moment they had been still, her standing and him sitting, holding onto each other as if they were getting to know each other again. Then he'd looked up, and she'd taken off his goggles. They didn't need words to communicate. She'd taken his hand and she had led him to a secluded space she had claimed. It protected them from view, and once Kyra pulled a curtain over the opening of the enclosure, the door to a completely new world had been opened.

They had stood there for a long time, just looking at each other. Then Kyra had moved first, slowly towards him. She had taken off his shirt, as she was tall enough to be able to do that just by raising herself up on her tiptoes. He had been as complaint as a kitten. The thought of kissing him had been as terrifying as her first thought of murder. But once her lips had touched his, it had all been easy. The taste of him had thrilled her, and his touch had made her entire body feel as if a warm, fiery liquid had been poured over it. He hadn't been gentle. Her arms had anchored around his shoulders and her legs had held onto his waist firmly. His teeth had grazed her skin as he'd entered her, causing her to scream out.

Afterwards, as she had leaned against the wall, exhausted and depleted, she had thought that nothing was going to be the same afterwards. He had been right next to her, as naked and as exhausted, gasping for breath, their arms touching. Kyra had felt drained of all emotions, and it had all been replaced by a comfortable numbness. It was the closest she had come to being satisfied.

They removed the metal rods, and Kyra almost gasped as a new wave of pain surged through her body. She collapsed against a pair of strong arms, and when she looked up at the man, she didn't recognize him. He was handsome, with an unusually kind face. He laid her on a soft bed, and put a cold, wet cloth against her forehead. "This is going to sting," he whispered as he cleaned away the blood from her wounds and bandaged them.

Kyra felt weak with fatigue, but she was happy it was over. As soon as she recovered, she would begin her treachery.

Another planet had gone down successfully, though there was a rumor floating around that the Lord Marshall was unhappy.

Kyra thought about Francesca and knew she was close to her due date. The baby was going to be born very soon.

Kyra walked over to her quarters, passing a crazed looking Dame Vaako. She rolled her eyes. That woman was always paranoid and crazed these days. Kyra noticed she was looking for something in front of her, and she turned around to see what had sent Dame Vaako into such a fit. The only thing Kyra could see were soldiers; nothing alarming about that. She walked away.

The ship took off, despite the fact that some of their own men were still left on the planet. Lord Marshall only looked pleased to get away. No one had ever seen him like this before, so eager to move on.

Kyra put on one of the more impressive dresses they had given her, making sure her hair was nice and neat. In a few minutes she would be called down to the main hall, as she was part of the party that was to have dinner with the Lord Marshall tonight.

On her way down she nearly ran into Vaako and his damn wife, who were pressed against a wall in a very uncomfortable looking lip-lock. Kyra almost gagged, just so she could make them separate. They did, but not because of her.

Kyra could hear the buzz of an unusually large crowd coming from the main floor as she descended yet more steps. She stopped by one of the balconies, so she could get a better view of what was going on below.

The Lord Marshall was standing by his throne, concentrating on something in front of him.

Kyra had to hold onto the railing as her knees went weak, as if someone had whacked them over with a stick. Across from the Lord Marshall stood a man she recognized all too well.

Riddick was taut and alert as he faced the Lord Marshall. He was clad in Necromanger armor, and Kyra had to concentrate a little before she recognized the rest of him.

Her delight was replaced by fear when she realized what he was trying to do. The Necromanger in her was furious at him for being foolish enough to think that he could just walk inside the Lord Marshall's hall and finish him off.

Someone approached Kyra, and she missed all that went on downstairs as someone led her across the balcony and through a stairwell that led to the main level.

The Lord Marshall summoned her before Riddick.

Her eyes met his, and it took all of her willpower to stay put. The Lord Marshall knew about her and Riddick, of course he did, there weren't many things he didn't know. Kyra was only mildly surprised.

The look on Riddick's face when he realized who he was looking at broke her heart all over again.

"_Are you with me, Kyra?_" Every single syllable was accentuated, as if he was trying to communicate to her that he was at the end of his powers.

She had to walk away before she got them both killed.

The next series of events were a blur for her. Riddick managed to land a good throw, managing to give the Lord Marshall a scar. Kyra's panic rose with each punch that landed on Riddick's jaw, but she knew he could take a beating. He'd told her once that it took much less energy to get beaten than to uselessly move your fists around. The Lord Marshall looked like he knew what he was doing, however. He moved much faster than Riddick expected him to, so he always gained the upper hand.

Kyra was aware of the flaw in the Lord Marshall's fighting tactic as well as Riddick. He repeated his technique. His opponent didn't need to be faster if he was able to learn the Marshall's scheme, which Riddick did. He surprised the crowd as he threw a well aimed punch and the Lord Marshall swirled to the side, landing hard onto the marble floor.

But he wasn't beaten yet. His rage peaked and he threw himself at Riddick, who was unable to hold him back. Long moments passed without Riddick resisting; Kyra realized he couldn't anymore. He was on the floor, nearly defeated.

No one stopped her as she grabbed a spear from a nearby statue. She walked briskly and purposefully.

The Lord Marshall prepared to strike his final blow, the one that would surely finish Riddick, when Kyra summoned up as much strength as she had and lunged the spear into Lord Marshall's back. He groaned in agony, his mortal body hurt but not beyond function. He swung his arm around and threw her in the air. Kyra waited to meet the floor, but it never came. Blinding pain surged through her entire body, before she collapsed. The last thing she saw was Riddick's face, sad but alive, very much alive. Kyra wanted to tell him she loved him, and that Francesca loved him too, and his child was probably born by now but she had no time to tell him any of that. "I was always with you," she whispered, finally, before she heard his quiet sobs. Then she knew no more.


	10. Never Meant To Stay

Epilogue

"Shh," Francesca whispered and picked up the plump baby. Almost immediately he stopped crying. He cooed contently as she settled him in her arms and walked to the window, letting the sun's rays fall on his beautiful, round face. His eyes stared up at her, pearly black. Francesca kissed the top of his forehead, and he giggled as his thumb instantly went in his mouth.

"You spoil him, you know," Irina, the woman who had helped her take care of the house and the baby since Kyra had left said and put down the clothes basket she was carrying. "He knows you can't resist him and he's using that to get what he wants."

"And what's so wrong about that?" Francesca asked, settling him down in a sitting position on the couch.

Irina smiled and shrugged, going through the pile of clean clothes. She had moved in with Francesca and the little boy soon after his birth, knowing that Francesca needed the company as much as she needed the help.

"Sasha, darling, you really shouldn't put that in your mouth," Francesca pried a toy Sasha had picked up from his hand and away from his mouth. For a moment he looked like he was going to cry, but Francesca quickly poked his little belly, distracting him and sending him into a fit of giggles. She giggled along with him, filled with joy at the sound of his laugh. His eyes met hers again and a small, unconscious sigh escaped from Francesca.

That night, Sasha fell asleep quickly in his crib while Francesca read to him, rocking in a chair beside him. As soon as she heard his little snores, she put the book down and went to her bedroom, across the hall. She took a long bath, trying to still her mind. During the day she was always fine, and she rarely thought about Riddick or worried about Kyra. When night came, however, it was hard to keep those thoughts at bay. She hadn't heard from Kyra for more than a year. Francesca was afraid she had gone back to her old ways, moving from jail to jail, killing whenever she got bored. She had hoped that Kyra would settle down, and she had a feeling Riddick would have wanted that for her as well. But at the same time she knew that there was no way she could have stopped her.

She got out of the tub when he skin began to prune. She wrapped a towel around her hair and swung a plush bathrobe over her shoulders. The night was warm, so she pulled a small nightgown over herself as soon as she was dry. She brushed her hair, which was still wet, and settled under the covers.

The moon was high in the sky, and its light filtered through the open window. The curtains flowed like waves as the breeze joined the moonlight. Francesca closed her eyes, waiting for sleep to come. She shifted over to her side, pulling the covers tighter around herself.

The smell of forest and warm dirt filled the room, and Francesca flinched even as sleep began to lull her in. She thought she heard shuffling sounds, but they were soon muffled by the swishing of the curtains. She didn't hear the sound of her door opening and shutting , then his footsteps, soundless on the thick carpet.

The bed dipped with his weight, but she was too gone in her sleep to realize it. He touched her gingerly, and still she didn't stir. He kissed her softly, and even in her sleep her lips parted for him.

"Francesca," he whispered, and at last her eyes fluttered open.

"Riddick?" she asked sleepily.

He felt so incredibly real as he kissed her again, his touch so solid, so wonderful. Unconsciously she tried to will the dream away, knowing it would only bring her pain later. It was no use to imagine things that couldn't be anymore. Still, in her dream, she put her arms around him.

She opened her eyes as they parted from the kiss and she saw the moonlight reflected in his glowing eyes. She jerked herself awake and stood up, frightened by the reality of the dream. She reached across the bed and turned on the light, needing to make sure that the dream had been just a mirage. She failed to see him head to the window and disappear quickly through it.

She looked around the room, and saw nobody. She turned the light off and lay back down on the pillows, but sleep wouldn't come. She stared out the window and waited for morning to come, hoping that by then, she would forget. It was much easier to forget.

Downstairs, in the garden Irina stared at his retreating figure in the darkness as he walked away. She knew he wouldn't be back.

Francesca had finally managed to slip into an easy sleep when Sasha's cries woke her up at dawn. She rushed to his room, and immediately noticed that something was different. He wasn't in the same position she left him, and the rocking chair had been moved. She picked him up and his cries stopped, just like she knew they would. She went downstairs, meaning to ask Irina if she had been in his room. She found the older woman dozing off on the couch. The front door was slightly ajar.

She pressed Sasha closer to her chest and for the first time she noticed that he smelled different. His baby smell was mixed with the smell of green.

Francesca rushed outside, into the garden. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, and yet everything had changed. Sasha looked up at her, his eyes seeming to pierce her very soul.

Francesca remembered something someone had told her long ago, words that now seemed to be engraved on her heart. _I never meant to stay._

THE END.


End file.
